TABULA RASA
The third time his eyes opened, it was to sunlight and blue skies.
He blinked, once, twice, trying to get his bearings. He was lying down on something hard and cold.
Something wasn't right.
He couldn't remember anything.
Startled, he scrambled into a sitting position.
He frowned, looking at himself to get a better clue of who- or what- he even was. Pale skin and white cloth greeted his sight. For some reason that struck him as unusual, even though he wasn't sure what else he should be seeing.
He pushed himself up on unsteady legs, growling as pain and weakness stabbed into him. He felt stretched and fragile, and not just physically. A tenuous and strained feeling pulling at his core, as if his whole existence was shaky. As if his body would shatter to pieces in an instant.
Attention turned inward to his fractured core. A gaping nothingness greeted him.
And yet… there was something else.
The nothingness wasn't complete in its rule. There were bits and pieces of something there; fragments of a soul that used to be, damaged and corrupted nearly beyond recognition. Splinters of old thoughts and feelings that weren't entirely his own circled the void. The disparate elements struggled against each other, fighting for purchase and control, tentatively held together by a straining thread.
It was too much to figure out all at once.
The world around him was equally confusing. Blue expanses of metal and concrete and glass: A city.
Sideways.
Wrong.
A place that Should Not Be.
"I see that you still draw breath." A low voice spoke from behind.
He turned too quick, barely catching himself before he was once again sprawling out on the building. An imposing figure in a ragged coat towered over him. He snarled, senses prickling to get away run hide from the person in front of him. He did not. "W-wh—?" His throat burned with the effort of choking out the word. He persisted out of spite. "What...?"
The Other's face betrayed no emotion. "I was unsure if you would survive, Hollow."
"I'm..." Hollow, right. That's what this empty feeling is.
The Hollow blinked, unsure of how to respond. His voice was still annoyingly brittle when he spoke. "What did you do?" He wasn't supposed to be like this. Something in the back of his mind nagged that the tall man was responsible.
Responsible for what exactly? The Hollow wasn't entirely sure yet.
"What I could." Blue eyes, hidden behind shaded, slid closed.
The Hollow studied the Other walking towards him. He didn't trust the emotion behind those words. He didn't trust those carefully mournful eyes. Trying not to growl, he lowered himself into a defensive crouch, ready to spring at the slightest hint of a threat. His display was rewarded as the other person ceased their approach.
"Your name." The Other said quietly, "do you have a name?"
A name?
It must be important, going by how serious the man spoke.
A word bubbled up into his thoughts: Ichigo. A word filled with determination and strength and so much light.
It was important. He wanted it.
But he knew at once it wasn't what he was looking for.
A word buzzed in the back of The Hollow's mind, prickling his tongue. But as he tried to form his mouth around it, it slipped through his thoughts like loose sand through fingers.
He was...
His name was...
...
...
Ž̸͋͜͝a̸̻̮̟̾̂̅n̷͍̍ģ̴͙͗e̶̱̤̥̎̿̉t̶̥̲̉͋͠ś̶͓̻̩ū̴̟̳̳?̸͖̆̊͐
The Hollow opened his mouth to speak it, uncertain. The word caught in his throat, burning its way to the center of his chest. He collapsed down with a hiss. It hurt. The name rebelling violently against his body.
The Other bowed his head. "...I see. So that's how it is."
Wrong. Everything was wrong.
The Hollow shook, bitter bile rising in his throat.
Nameless.
He wouldn't accept that.
"You!" The Hollow growled out, ice in his words. As his eyes stabbed into the Other he began to remember. Bits and pieces began to click into place. "You took it."
The Other met his gaze with steady eyes, "I do not understand what you mean."
With a snarl, The hollow launched himself forward, catching the older man unaware. They tumbled, falling flat on the askew building. Pale hands fisted the ragged, dark cloak. "Give it back!"
"It was never yours to begin with, Hollow." The Other spat.
Anger flashed in silver eyes. "You're wrong! I'm—" He choked, pain flaring down his spine.
I want it.
I deserve it.
It's mine!
I am! I am! I am!
I'll prove it!
"Stop." The Other said, moving faster than the Hollow could follow. A heavy sword appeared in the Other's hand, poainted at the Hollow in front of him. "You have taken enough of Zangetsu's power. I will not permit you to claim his name as well."
Rage flooded the Hollow's thoughts at how easily the Other spoke the name— his name— but the weapon resting on his throat was enough to hold him back. Why couldn't the Other see? Why was he keeping his name away from him!? "You don't know what you're talking about."
The Other didn't bother gracing the accusation with a reply. Instead he muttered, "Do you plan on fighting me? You are far too weak for that."
For now.
"Do you plan on taking over my wielder's soul? Finishing what you started?"
Another hot pulse of anger. The Hollow scowled, wishing for sharp claws instead of short nails and vicious fangs in place of blunt teeth. "Your wielder!? You took my name and now you wish to take Ichigo too? No. He is mine,"
Mine! Mine! Mine!
"And I will do with him as I please."
I need him— don't take him from me!
The Other's face hardened, resting the sword tip against too-pale skin. A threat. "I cannot allow that. If you kill him we both die."
"If he is too weak to stand up to me, then he doesn't deserve my help." The hollow flashed a cold smirk, "What do you care, anyway? You wanted to kill him yourself not so long ago. Are you going to kill me too?"
"No." The Other took a step back, "Loathe I am to admit it, I cannot kill you without further destabilizing his soul."
"So what will you do with me? Seems like you're not too keen on just having me around." He honestly wasn't looking forward to spending any more time with the Other. The Zanpakuto may have trusted him, but the Hollow didn't feel the same.
The Hollow wanted to say more, but he found his strength leaving him as a tugging sensation started on his core. The ragged coat of the Other flickered in his periphery, drawing closer. He flinched, ready to escape away, but it was already too late. He was surrounded.
"Ah. Hiding me away. Fine. Try your best. I'm only going to get stronger." His expression split into a wild grin, "Just you wait, someday I'll take back what's rightfully mine."
-0-
The dying echoes of the hollow's voice faded away. The sideways world was lonely once again.
The Other sighed, heart heavy. He had honestly tried to save the zanpakuto. As soon as the name had been thrust upon him and he recognized all he had to lose, he had jumped into action shearing away the hollowed portions of the spirit like cutting a bruise from a fruit.
All for nothing.
He shut his eyes, feeling the balance of responsibility on his shoulders.
He thought of Zangetsu— The real Zangetsu— That dizzying and spectacular thrall of power that had existed mere moments before; now twisted into the pitiful hollow. The desire to protect warped into a possessive obsession. A sickening perversion of the zanpakuto's sacrifice.
He hoped beyond reason that the sword spirit was still in there somewhere; buried deep under layers of pain and rot and instinct.
The Other needed him. He didn't know if he could do this alone.
He glanced down to the sword still in his grip
It hurt to look at it.
Hurt to look at the broken world around him.
Hurt to look at the snarling beast trapped far beneath the surface.
Did Zangetsu know this is what would become of him?
Did he not care?
Alone in the world, The Other wept.
I initially planned on having this only be 3 chapters and ending it here. However, if people are interested in more I do have some further ideas I can write down.